ctor enthroned on his professional chair,
surprised and delighted to see his distinguished friend. The impetuous
Irishman at once asked for Miss Henley.

"Gone," Mr. Vimpany answered

"Gone--where?" the wild lord wanted to know next.

"To London."

"By herself?"

"No; with Mr. Hugh Mountjoy."

Lord Harry seized the doctor by the shoulders, and shook him: "You
don't mean to tell me Mountjoy is going to marry her?"

Mr. Vimpany feared nothing but the loss of money. The weaker and the
older man of the two, he nevertheless followed the young lord's
example, and shook him with right good-will. "Let's see how you like it
in your turn," he said. "As for Mountjoy, I don't know whether he is
married or single--and don't care."

"The devil take your obstinacy! When did they start?"

"The devil take your questions! They started not long since."

"Might I catch them at the station?"

"Yes; if you go at once."

So the desperate doctor carried out his wife's instructions--without
remembering the conditions which had accompanied them.

The way to the station took Lord Harry past the inn. He saw Hugh
Mountjoy through the open house door paying his bill at the bar. In an
instant the carriage was stopped, and the two men (never on friendly
terms) were formally bowing to each other.

"I was told I should find you," Lord Harry said, "with Miss Henley, at
the station."

"Who gave you your information?"

"Vimpany--the doctor."

"He ought to know that the train isn't due at the station for an hour
yet."

"Has the blackguard deceived me? One word more, Mr. Mountjoy. Is Miss
Henley at the inn?"

"No."

"Are you going with her to London?"

"I must leave Miss Henley to answer that."

"Where is she, sir?"

"There is an end to everything, my lord, in the world we live in. You
have reached the end of my readiness to answer questions." The
Englishman and the Irishman looked at each other: the Anglo-Saxon was
impenetrably cool; the Celt was flushed and angry. They might have been
on the brink of a quarrel, but for Lord Harry's native quickness of
perception, and his exercise of it at that moment. When he had called
at Mr. Vimpany's house, and had asked for Iris, the doctor had got rid
of him by means of a lie. After this discovery, at what conclusion
could he arrive? The doctor was certainly keeping Iris out of his way.
Reasoning in this rapid manner, Lord Harry let one offence pass, in his
headlong eagerness to resent